


Finish What You Start

by allflavoursofkink (Iolre)



Series: Johncroft Flavours [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, Johncroft, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot, Porn, Prompt Fill, Sensory Deprivation, Smut, submissive!Mycroft, top!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolre/pseuds/allflavoursofkink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Mycroft just needs to focus. John so enjoys helping, for it's beneficial for the both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finish What You Start

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt asking for bondage Johncroft with submissive!Mycroft.
> 
> You can send me prompts [here!](http://allflavoursofkink.tumblr.com).

John sat at the table, finishing reading the journal article had in his hands. It was always good to keep up with the current medical literature, after all. He looked over to the top, seeing Mycroft bound naked in the corner. Blindfold on, earplugs in, gag stretching his pretty mouth - the only sense left to him was touch. John had even spread an oil underneath his nostrils. Complete sensory deprivation, the only thing that could completely stop Mycroft’s mind from working. His wrists were bound behind his back, loose knots that would easily come undone so John could strap him to the bed. He had shackles on his ankles, and his knees were spread. Although John couldn’t see his front from the way Mycroft was sitting, he was certain that he was fully erect.

Deciding that an hour had been enough for Mycroft to sit there, waiting, heightening the anticipation, he stood, tucking the chair in. It was rather nice to not have to worry about being quiet, and with the padding of the walls, he could be as loud as he needed and Mycroft would still be oblivious. He gently placed a hand on Mycroft’s shoulder, feeling the muscles flex underneath his touch as Mycroft reacted and zeroed in on the new sensation. Mycroft made some muffled noises from behind the ball gag, and John slipped a finger underneath the straps to tug gently on them in warning.

Carefully he nudged Mycroft up, careful to assist him. It was odd, the way pins and needles gathered in one’s limbs after kneeling for so long. He spent a few moments massaging Mycroft’s legs, partially to allow Mycroft time to adjust, partially because he just liked to touch the silky skin, liked to feel Mycroft’s muscles move. Watching Mycroft react to the touch was its own reward, how he gravitated towards John’s fingers, garbled moans and whimpers coming from around the silicone in his mouth. “Good boy,” John murmured, not completely removing his hands from Mycroft’s body.

He walked Mycroft over to the bed, helping him sit on the edge as he undid the bindings on his wrists. Mycroft was docile, allowing John to move him as he wished. It was a heady feeling, the power over the most powerful man in the British government. He could do anything he wanted, anything at all, and Mycroft would let him. Once Mycroft’s wrists were secured to the head of the bed and his ankles to the foot, leaving him naked and spread eagled, quiet and bound, John stepped back. He took his time undressing, folding his clothes and placing them on a nearby chair.

John took his own cock in hand, allowing himself a few luxurious strokes, just enough to take the edge off of the arousal building in his body at the sight of his lover, bound and complacent. The interesting thing about beds, John thought as he approached, was the sensory cues that they could give Mycroft even when sensory deprivation protocols were in place. Even then, it wasn’t often enough. John started by pressing kisses to the inside of Mycroft’s wrist, small butterfly kisses interspersed with open-mouth, warm kisses to allow him to taste Mycroft’s salty skin. Each press of lips or mouth to Mycroft’s skin drew twitches or small noises from the bound man, his entire attention focused simply on what John was doing to him.

John moaned softly as he reached Mycroft’s chest, shifting to take one of his nipples into his mouth, sucking at the nub until the tissue was swollen under his ministration. Mycroft was whimpering through the gag, hips attempting to buck up despite the inability to gain friction with John’s body off to the side. John gave the same treatment to Mycroft’s other nipple until the other man was practically writhing with frustration. He smirked, moving over Mycroft’s leg, pressing sloppy kisses down Mycroft’s middle until he took Mycroft’s cock into his mouth.

He was rewarded with a strangled, cut-off moan and Mycroft frantically tried to move, tried to do something. John held him down, taking his mouth off his cock until he calmed. Mycroft’s breath had sped up, shallow and quick. He smirked. Good. Slowly he took the head of Mycroft’s cock into his mouth, sucking lightly, massaging the underside with his tongue the way he knew Mycroft liked.

At first Mycroft moaned loudly through the gag, struggling against his bonds, but eventually the thrashing stopped, and he went limp, soft little whimpers escaping through the thick silicone. “Good boy,” John murmured as he removed his mouth from Mycroft’s cock, even though the politician couldn’t hear him. Mycroft made a protesting noise, muffled, and John chuckled as he slid up Mycroft’s body.

He angled their hips together, cock against cock, and thrust. Both men were slick with precome, just enough to allow for a smooth glide. More moaning, but this time he got twitching of fingers and an attempt to buck his hips up. This John allowed, and he leaned down, working on sucking a mark onto the base of Mycroft’s throat, just underneath where his suits would show. His eyes fluttered shut as he thrust against Mycroft, heated skin gliding across heated skin, his lips firmly attached to the pale skin, sucking and biting and licking. It was so fucking good - Mycroft couldn’t react, couldn’t respond, instead all John heard was soft whimpers, muted noises; surely the sensory information was overloading him, only being able to feel, not hear or see or taste or smell.

John switched to the other side of Mycroft’s neck, thrusting harder, feeling the heat start to coil in his stomach. The pleasure he got from dominating the British Government coalesced with rutting against the man he loved, the man who loved him back, who allowed himself to be taken, to be owned - John moaned and came hard, feeling Mycroft shudder in his own release a few seconds later. He continued the rocking of his hips for a few moments, through the aftershocks, and then slowly sank down onto the taller man.

He allowed himself a few moments before taking out the gag, carefully easing the silicone out from between Mycroft’s teeth. The earplugs were next, then the blindfold. He gently wiped off as much of the oil from underneath as he could. Then he unhooked the chains from the head and footboards, still as close to Mycroft as he could be. He wiped them off with a towel Mycroft kept on the nightstand, then pulled Mycroft flush against him, a pleased, sleepy smile on his face. “Good, that,” he told him.

Mycroft snorted softly, pressing a kiss to John’s jawline as he reached up pale, delicate fingers to cursorily examine the love bites John had sucked onto his neck. “I would call that an understatement,” Mycroft replied sleepily, seemingly satisfied with their placement. John chuckled, waiting for Mycroft to turn pliant and sleepy before allowing himself to go to sleep.


End file.
